Dragons Amongst Lions and Wolves
by Avatarofsolarus
Summary: One-Shot: Rhaella Targaryen was married to a madman, was it any surprise she sought comfort in the arms of someone else, even if it happened to be Tywin Lannister? Their child was a constant reminder of Tywin's disloyalty to his dead wife, so at the age of 17 he sends her with the Royals to visit Winterfell and be out of Tywin's business. There she found another hidden dragon...


**Author's Note:**

**So here's a little one-shot I had brewing up. I wanted to make it into a larger story, but couldn't really find the motivation to continue it. I decided to release it here in case anyone wanted to take it on or just enjoy the concept. I must say, I'm a recent adopter of Game of Thrones so haven't really taken in a lot of details that more hardened fans may have; so there could very well be quite a few errors in terms of Canon information here. Again, this story is here just to enjoy the concept - if anyone wants to take inspiration or continue it, feel ****_absolutely _****free.**

**The pairing is Jon x OC but I also left it open for a Jon x Sansa pairing if you squint.**

**Oh and disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing to do with the 'Game of Thrones' TV Series or the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' book series. All rights go to their respective creators and such.**

**So without further ado, enjoy the story.**

**Dragons Amongst Lions and Wolves**

"What!?"

Tywin rolled his eyes from under his helmet, unphased by the anger of Robert Baratheon, newly appointed king of the Seven Kingdoms. In his arms laid an infant girl, which his eyes softened upon when he gazed on her form.

"What is the matter, your grace." Tywin asked, looking back up at the muscled young man.

Radiating anger, Robert pointed at the child. "That babe is an affront to this entire new monarchy, Lannister. The rule of the Targaryens was ousted for a reason! Or do you desire to parade around a reminder of my betrothed's raper and murderer?"

Tywin scowled, both at the implied threat to his child and Robert's continued mentioning of Lyanna, even after being married to Tywin's daughter, Cersei. "This babe is as much a Lannister as a Targaryen, your Grace. Perhaps moreso - not only is she a bastard, she was born against Aerys' wishes. Her life is an affront to him, not you." He would not let this idiot kill his child. He didn't love Rhaenyra, but there was some connection to his daughter that prevented him from holding the same animosity towards her as he did towards his son, Tyrion. "Please, your Grace." Tywin was glad this meeting was just between the two of them - this was the last time he would say 'please' to anyone - he was Tywin fucking Lannister, if people heard him say these types of things they may think he was becoming weak, like his father, and he would not have that.

Robert tapped his fingers on the throne's armrests, thinking it over.

He hated the Targaryens. He'd hated them even before Rhaegar kidnapped Lyanna, when Rhaegar had defeated him in tourneys again and again in their youth. The hate only grew when he saw how Lyanna and Rhaegar looked at each other - the tenderness in their gazes.

Yes, he had a suspicion about the reality of the supposed 'kidnapping', but he didn't care. Rhaegar had stolen Lyanna from him and Aerys had genuinely been a madman, so it wasn't even hard to build the rebellion. He'd gained his revenge and killed the whoreson prince in battle, even if the Prince hadn't seemed in prime condition at the time.

And then, after he'd been given the throne, after Aerys and Rhaenys had been killed, Tywin - the ass - comes and declares that he'd sired a daughter with Rhaenys in an affair the two had? He almost decided to have the babe killed, but another thought came to mind.

'He wants his daughter to live? Fine.' Robert thought. "Fine. Your bastard daughter can live."

Tywin sighed in some relief. "Thank you, your grace-"

"I'm not finished." Robert growled. Tywin closed his mouth, frowning in confusion. "Your daughter may live - but as long as she lives, she is never to set foot in the Crownlands." He proclaimed, getting Tywin to widen his eyes. "When I said that the throne would not suffer another Targaryen, I meant it." He bit out.

"Yes, your Grace." Tywin forced himself to say, containing the anger within him.

"You are never to reveal her lineage to anyone. Not your daughter, not your sons, not any member of your family, not to even your pet fucking dog. You either name her a bastard or a Lannister, I don't care, but if she is ever known as a Targaryen - I will do to her what was done to Rhaegar's daughters." Robert spat again, his voice becoming slightly crazed.

Tywin clenched his fists, careful not to hurt his daughter as he stopped himself from simply going up and severing the fool's head. Robert was a powerful fighter, an idiot, but he was not mad. If one were to claim he was however, they would be pardoned for claiming that the Targaryens were the cause of it.

He left then to return to the seat of his house, Casterly Rock, with his daughter. "You are my daughter." He said gently to the babe as they made their way to a convoy of Lannister forces and carriages that would take them home. "Robert Baratheon is an idiot. He has slighted the Lannisters this day, and though I am mostly unable to do anything about it, you are not." He watched as his daughter opened a mismatched pair of eyes, one bright green and one a deep purple. He brushed back her short hair with one hand, the blonde strands far too bright and close to white to be that of a lannister's.

"You are my daughter, Visenya."

*Seventeen Years Later - Casterly Rock*

In the courtyard of Casterly Rock, a place occupied solely by the ruling branch of the Lannister family, the striking of metal against metal could be heard - the telltale cacophany produced by a clash of swords.

"You're slow, Uncle."

A single Green eye burned with focus as a 17 year old Visenya Lannister dueled with her Uncle Tygett, the older man showing considerably more effort in the battle to parry and dodge her attacks.

She had grown much in her years, becoming a beauty surpassing that of her sister, Cersei. Her Targaryen white hair had been coloured darker slightly over the years by Tywin to stave off suspicion and it was now styled in a 'half-up crown braid'. She was tall, taller than Cersei but shorter than Jaime or Tywin, who both stood at about 6'2". Rigorous excersise and training over the years had shaped her body into a pack of tight and powerful muscles, albeit muscles shaped in a way that accentuated her thighs and behind, with a bosom that while not overtly huge, was big enough that it provided a decent handful for any lover, not that she'd ever taken any.

Her face possessed a fearsome and intimidating beauty, with full red lips and a perfect, shark like smile with straight teeth. Noble men would have been falling over themselves in pursuit of her hand in marriage were it not for her fearsome aura and tomboyish nature, her position as a bastard, as well as the only blemish on an otherwise perfect visage that rivalled Shiera Seastar in beauty. A long, angry scar ran from her forehead, down over her right eye and onto her cheek.

The wound had been caused by a Lion that she had stubbornly attempted to tame a few years ago, when she'd come too close to the beast on her first attempt. She wore an eyepatch, but the eye underneath was actually perfectly intact, but they'd maintained the deception so that questions would not be raised about her purple eye.

Similar to her namesake ancestor, Visenya refused to wear dresses except for formal functions and mostly wore a leather coat similar to her father, with skintight leather trousers and black boots.

Back to the duel, Visenya pressed the attack, looking to end the bout. She easily parried two strikes from Tygett and pushed forward, slashing quickly at his side and legs in moves that the man barely batted away, stumbling in the process. Taking this chance, Visenya caught his blade with her own and pushed the tip near the base of his, twirling it around and out of his hands. "Hah!" She followed with a drop-kick to the chest, toppling over her uncle as she brought her sword to his throat. "Yield, Uncle." She ordered, breathing deeper due to the effort during the fight.

Tygett scowled but nodded in assent. "Fine, I yield." Visenya smirked and took her sword away, sheathing it with a flourish and moving over to pick up a waterskin. Tygett got to his feet and caught the waterskin she threw at him, taking a sip and watching his niece warily.

"What?" Visenya caught the look and asked him. "Don't tell me you're sour, Uncle? Don't be a sore looser now." She taunted.

Tygett shook his head. "I'm not sore. Well, not mentally at least." He rubbed his behind where he'd fallen, as Visenya shook her head and took a sip of water. "You're good, Visenya. Really good." He stated seriously. "Why is it that you don't become a kingsguard? With your father's influence..."

Visenya cut him off. "Robert Baratheon is a drunken fool who should not be king." She stated with venom. "I will not dishonor my house by serving him. And my father is too concerned with his own political power to care about me."

"Are you sure it's not because Robert seems to hate you?" Tygett asked, to which Visenya froze. "I've been to Kings Landing a few times with Tywin. Robert asks after you, you know. Asks Tywin if 'that bastard daughter of his' is still alive."

Visenya gripped the pommel of her sword firmly enough that her knuckles whitened. "What is your point, Uncle?" She asked, turning to him slowly.

Tygett shrugged innocently. "Nothing - I know you and Tywin are hiding something, but I have no idea what it is, to be honest I don't particularly care and Kevan hasn't even noticed, the dense fucker." He said. "I just want you to realise that if I've noticed, then other people definitely will."

"Don't worry about me Uncle, I can handle myself." She replied, making her way into the castle. She made her way up into her room and to a bath she'd ordered to be made before she'd finished duelling her uncle.

Stripping out of her light clothing to her birthday suit, perfect milky skin was revealed that would have any man longing to run a hand along it. Toned and taut muscle produced a curved and athletic body that would send men insane with lust were it in plain view. She gazed at herself in a mirror, thinking over the numerous suitors her father had suggested for her over the years and her steadfast rejection of each one.

Most were snivelling lesser lords or heirs barely able to hold up a sword, much less wield one in battle and had the body shape and mentality to prove it. So far she'd held up an oath that she would not wed any man that could not at the very least draw with her in a duel. Tywin had given up trying after she'd proven more than a match for all the suitors he sent her way, even the ones who were trained in swordplay.

Slowly, she brought up a hand and removed her eyepatch, revealing a purple eye that gazed back at her with the scar running over her eyelids, but the lion's claw had not gone deep enough to pierce her eye. Frowning, she covered her green eye and imagined her hair in its natural Targaryen colours. The picture that came to her mind as a result reminded her heavily of paintings she'd seen of the original Visenya, the sister-wife of Aegon of whom she was named after.

"Soon." She murmured, the vow she'd made to herself those years ago when she learned her mother's identity coming to the surface of her mind.

"The usurper wishes me dead and my father does nothing. Perhaps then I should side with my true family, wherever they are."

Hearing a jostling at her door, she quickly almost leapt into the bath and put the eyepatch back on just as a handmaid came bustling in.

"L-Lady Visenya, my apologies! I wasn't aware-!" She began to apologise profusely, moving to back out of the room.

Visenya waved her off. "Do not worry, you obviously came in here for a reason, what is it?" She asked.

"Lord Tyrion and Lord Jaime have arrived, my Lady." The maid informed her.

"Ah, so my brothers decided not to accompany his Grace did they?" She chuckled. "At least they have some sense."

The handmaid fidgeted slightly. "Ah, no, my Lady. Lord Jaime and Lord Tyrion have come to fetch you so you may accompany them to Winterfell."

"What?" She blinked in surprise - she was being allowed out of the Westerlands? While the thought certainly appealed to her, especially visiting the Seat of the Warden of the North, she had no idea why she was being invited. "And did they say why?"

*Line Skip*

"Unbelievable." Visenya snapped as she rode in a carriage alongside Tyrion behind Cersei's more opulent carriage which held Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella as well.

Tyrion looked up from a book an rose an eyebrow. "What is it, little Sister?" At her deadpan stare, he coughed. "Well, don't think too much on it. If you worry about it, it will only get worse in your mind."

"Marriage." She spat the word like it was a bundle of phlegm. "I would've thought father had realised I wanted to be my own person by now."

"It's not that the boy's a bastard?" Tyrion asked.

"What? Why would that matter? I'm a bastard too, remember?" She reminded him. "Besides, the North? It's awfully cold there, isn't it? I think I'm rather used to the spring weather of Casterly Rock." She attempted to make light of the situation.

"Visenya." Tyrion said, looking at her unconvinced.

The bright haired girl sighed. "I would rather be something like a kingsguard, a knight or even a sellsword. But Robert Baratheon is a unbelievable pig who I'd rather slaughter than serve and Tywin is a controlling prick that makes me feel more like a prisoner than a daughter."

"Yes, I recall you'd never gone more than a few miles outside of Casterly Rock before this trip." Tyrion nodded. "I think you are underestimating how much our father thinks of you, little sister. If you truly asked for it, I don't doubt he'd tear down entire noble houses just to get you what you want."

Visenya scoffed. "You underestimate his lack of kindness, Tyrion. Father doesn't see me as a daughter, he sees me as a burden he'd rather not deal with." She said. "Surely you should realise that, with how he treats you?" She prodded.

Tyrion didn't really have a response to that.

"And now he's allowed the pig to marry me off to some northern bastard, probably to just get me even further away from having to deal with me." She stated bitterly, turning her gaze back out the window.

Tyrion sighed. "Well, try not to dread it too much at least. I've heard he's good with a sword - the best fighter in Winterfell, apparently."

That rose her interest a little. "The best?" She asked skeptically.

Her brother shrugged noncomitally. "Well, you never know how accurate rumors can be, but they must have started with some credibility. So he may not be the best, but he's probably still quite good."

"Hmm." She wouldn't be satisfied with 'quite good'. She'd been compared with her brother Jaime in prowess and that was months ago - she'd specifically said that she'd only marry a man that could draw her in a duel so that it would never happen. But Ned Stark had been said to be better than Jaime and if this Bastard was truly better than him...

'Why even ponder? It can't be the case.' She assured herself.

*A few weeks later - Winterfell*

Jon Snow, bastard son of Eddard Stark, waited along with the rest of his 'family' for the royal precession to enter the courtyard of Winterfell, wincing as he scratched his recently shaven face. He'd been attempting to grow his beard to a decent length before, just to show off since neither Robb nor Theon could grow one as thick as his. Then Catelyn had ordered all the boys be shaved, including him, so they didn't shame house Stark in front of the King and Queen.

He'd noticed that Catelyn and his Father had been acting strangely ever since the news of the King's intention to visit had come to them. Specifically, in relation to Jon himself.

He had no idea what it was about, but Ned had bid him to stand slightly closer than what Catelyn had wanted, so he was essentially in line with the other Stark siblings, to Arya and Robb's delight - Bran didn't see the significance, while Sansa remained indifferent to him, as usual.

He straightened slightly as the procession finally arrived, noticing a few prominent people immediately. Robert Baratheon, a giant of a man not far off Gregor Clegane's size only in fat, rode at the front while a few members of the Kingsguard trailed behind, one of which was Jaime Lannister, his brother in law, judging by the blonde hair.

The carriages stopped and from the bigger and more opulent one, a woman he assumed to be the Queen exited, followed by her three children, all younger than Jon, Theon and Robb, even Sansa, although not much younger than her.

"Damn, the rumours were right, Queens a real beauty." Theon muttered from behind him.

He was silenced as Robb elbowed him in the stomach. "Quiet." He murmured.

Privately Jon agreed, Cersei was indeed beautiful, but there was a coldness to her that didn't sit well with him. It prevented him from having any properly lewd thoughts about her and made him wonder more about if she was planning something nefarious.

"May I present, his Grace, Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm." A servant said, having arrived earlier specifically for this purpose.

Jon realised one thing as he beheld each of the royal children. 'They don't look a thing like Robert.' He thought, noting that every one of them possessed the Lannister Blonde hair and almost no Baratheon features.

As the king dismounted his horse with the help of a stepping stool and approached them, Ned knelt, signalling the rest of the people gathered to do so as well. Eventually they all stood again just as another carriage could be seen about to enter the gates of Winterfell.

Robert looked at Ned for a few moments, looking up and down at him. "You've gotten fat." He eventually said, rather audaciously. Ned blinked in surprise and nodded to Robert's stomach, making the large man laugh. "9 Years, Ned! Where've you been, why haven't you come to see me?"

"I've been guarding the North, keeping it safe for you, your grace." Ned replied.

Arya looked around. "Where's the Imp?" She asked aloud.

"Will you shut up?" Sansa snapped, breaking her gaze from Joffrey. Arya just frowned and went back to looking for the diminutive Lannister.

The Queen approached then and Ned placed a kiss on her knuckles as the women in the family all curtsied.

"Take me to your crypt, Ned. I want to pay my respects." Robert said, already moving towards where he knew they were.

"Is now the time?" Ned asked with hesitation, seeing the annoyance blossom on the Queen's face. It was obvious who it was that Robert wanted to pay his respects to - he never made much of a secret of it, tactless as it was.

"We've been riding for a month, my Love. Surely the dead can wait?" Cersei asked.

Robert huffed and turned away. "Come on, Ned." He instructed, making his way to the crypts. Ned winced and looked to the Queen, who just waved dismissively and turned to Catelyn. Ned followed after Robert after squeezing his wife's hand.

"This way my Lady, Sansa and I will show you to your rooms." Catelyn offered, getting a nod as Cersei turned to her children and beckoned them to follow.

As they were making their way into the castle, the remaining people - namely Robb, Jon, Arya, Rickon and Bran waited for the last carriage to pull up. There was no fanfare or announcements with this one, although Ser Jaime seemed to be awaiting the occupant. The door opened rather abruptly and a woman stepped out, familiar Lannister blonde hair waving in the cold breeze.

"Who's that?" Arya asked.

"Visenya Hill - Tywin Lannister's bastard daughter." Robb said, as his siblings looked to him in surprise. "What? Father told me she was coming."

"I didn't know Tywin Lannister had a bastard." Jon stated, gazing somewhat intently at the girl.

Theon noticed this and jabbed his side, making Jon jump and shove him. "Smitten with her, are you Jon? Didn't know you were a lover of cripples, but I guess she is a bastard too."

Jon was about to snap at him but was interrupted by the girl in question. "Theon Greyjoy, is it?" She said as she neared, making him look at her.

"Yeah..." He answered, becoming slightly nervous under her gaze for some reason.

"Hmm." She simply frowned in disappointment, making Theon grow slightly red as Jon and Robb laughed. She turned to Robb. "I must apologise for my tardiness, my brother insisted on visiting the local brothel and I unfortunately had to tag along to drop him off."

"It's no problem." Robb waved her off. "Allow me to make introductions - I am Robb Stark, heir to Winterfell. This is my sister Arya and my three brothers, Jon, Bran and Rickon." Each person did a faint bow, more out of respect than formality, since bastards weren't afforded the same customs as nobles.

Visenya bowed slightly rather than curtsied. "A pleasure to meet you all, although I'd been told you had another sister?"

Jon nodded. "She's gone with Lady Catelyn to show the Queen and her children to their rooms." He responded, drawing Visenya's gaze. Now that she was up close, Jon could truly acknowledge that she was a true beauty - athletic and muscled well, for sure, but in a way that only enhanced her beauty and dangerous appeal in his eyes. The eyepatch, curious as it was, only further enhanced it for him.

'So this is to be my betrothed.' Visenya thought, running her eyes up and down his body. 'Easy on the eyes at least. Strong - looking, too.' Still, finding him attractive didn't necessarily mean she wanted him as a husband.

"Would you like me to show you to your room, my Lady?" Jon continued when she nodded at the statement.

Visenya considered it for a moment before looking at the sword on Robb's hip and smirking. "Well, as long as the trip was, I slept for most of the carriage journey so I'm not really too tired. How about a spar?"

Robb and Jon glanced at each other and Arya looked excited. "You can use a sword?"

Visenya glanced at the girl and smiled. "I'd say I can more than just use it, little one."

"I'm afraid my father will want me at his side soon, but if you'd like to wait until tomorrow?" Robb stated, a little disappointed - he hadn't known she would be a swordswoman when father told him she'd be coming, just to keep her away from Robert as much as possible for some reason. In any case, he'd have liked to duel her.

Visenya was about to respond when Arya spoke up. "Why don't you duel Jon?"

"Arya!" Jon said in surprise.

"Oh? Perhaps I will, then." Visenya smirked, to Jon's surprise. "Think you can keep up, Snow?" She jabbed.

"I wouldn't presume to-" Jon backstepped a little.

"You aren't presuming anything." Visenya frowned. "I asked to duel you. You would refuse?"

Robb chuckled at Jon's lost look. "Come on, Jon - the Lady's asking to have a swordfight, you refuse and people will think you a flower." He paused, turning to Visenya. "No offence, Visenya."

"Hmph, none taken, it's true." She just shrugged.

"Come on Jon! Duel her!" Bran begged, wanting to watch.

"Agh, fine!" Jon relented, unsure of his hesitation. "Come on, I'll show you to the practice yard - I don't have my sword on me right now." He beckoned them, Arya cheering as they walked.

Visenya smiled and followed Jon, but frowned a little when Jaime came up to her as she walked. "Why little sister, made some friends already?" He asked.

"Hardly, they seem good enough people - but we're just going to have a spar." She replied.

"A spar?" Jaime rose an eyebrow. "With the bastard?" He asked, getting a nod from her. He spoke a little quieter. "You're as good with a sword as I am, little sister, I think we proved that on the road here. Are you sure it's a good idea to duel with some lowborn?"

"You always seem to forget, brother, I'm a lowborn too." She snapped, making him wince. "Besides, from what Tyrion says the boy is one of the best fighters in Winterfell."

Jaime looked surprised at that. "Really? Now isn't that a surprise."

Visenya just rolled her eyes as they arrived at the training yard, racks with wooden swords and blunted metal practice swords arrayed along the edges. When Jon went to grab one of the blunted metal swords, Visenya frowned. "No live weaponry, Snow?"

"Unfortunately not, Hill." Jon replied a little bitterly - Visenya realised he must hate being a bastard even more than she did if he responded like that. He sighed, shaking his head. "The Blacksmith hasn't made me one yet."

"Hmm, fair enough." She said, grabbing one of the blunt swords for herself. Feeling the weight of it, she did a few swings to test the balance and nodded. "Alright, I'm ready when you are."

Jon looked to Jaime. "Ser Jaime, would you mind being the referee?"

The Kingsguard shrugged. "Sure, why not. Weapons at the ready then." The two quickly stepped into stances, Jon into one that looked strangely familiar to Jaime, perhaps like the Dornish styles he'd seen, while Visenya settled into her own style she'd mustered from several teachers. "Ready?" The two nodded. "Begin!" The two rushed eachother, swords clashing together.

As they exchanged blows, Arya, Bran and Robb watched from the side. "Woah, they're both so good!" Arya gushed. "I've never seen anyone do so well against Jon!"

"Hey!" Robb muttered.

"Hmph." Arya huffed, making Robb sulk while Bran laughed. "I'm going to move a bit closer!"

"Be careful!" Robb called after her. "That little brat. She makes it sound like Jon is the Sword of the Morning or something."

"Jon is Arya's favourite brother, Robb. Surely you've realised that already?" Robb turned at the voice to see Jon's mysterious swordmanship tutor standing next to him.

Robb shook his head with a sigh. "I guess - I don't really spend enough time with her."

"It's no real fault of yours. You have your own duties - as next Lord of Winterfell, remember?" The man pointed out, Robb agreeing reluctantly.

Robb took a glance at the man, once more attempting to discern his identity but coming up short. He was tall, even taller than Ned at 6'4" and wore heavy northern cloathing with the Stark sigil, {1} since Ned had Knighted him some years previous. Over this he wore a fur cloak similar to that of the ones the Starks all wore, except his had a hood and he wore a scarf that covered up to just above his nose most of the time. He only ever discarded the cloak when teaching Jon, revealing short brown hair and tanned skin. No one could ever get close enough to properly discern his eye colour, but from a distance it appeared to be blue-ish.

He simply called himself 'Sand', which revealed his Dornish origins, but not much else. He refused to elaborate, stating that 'his real name would not be used until the time was right' or something.

"The girl is very good." Sand pointed out.

"Oh?" Robb asked, sensing the interest in the man's tone.

"I'll not mince my words. You are at the very least equal to Lord Stark in swordsmanship skill-" He began, to Robb's surprise. "But I'm sorry to say this young Wolf, Jon is a good deal better than you are. And even so, the Lannister girl is keeping up with him - even pressuring him at times."

Robb winced, his pride coming up before he squashed it - Jon was better than him. It was undeniable. It hadn't started like that, at first they'd been pretty much even - but over time Jon won more and more and Robb won less and less to the point where Robb only won two matches out of every ten they had nowadays.

Robb looked back at the match and rose an eyebrow. "Looks like the girl's going to win - she has him on the defensive."

Sand smiled under his scarf. "She's quick - but I think you'll find that Jon will pull out a victory." He said mysteriously - the smugness in his voice making Robb raise an eyebrow.

*Line Break*

Visenya parried a jab that Jon sent at her midsection and brought her sword down in a slash towards his shoulder, only to be similarly parried and countered. So far, neither of them had landed any decisive blows merely glancing ones and even those soon died down once they became serious. Jon was quick, with strength and great block and counter skill, while Visenya was even quicker, her use of a slightly thinner sword allowing quick and precise attacks while she dodged more than she blocked.

In terms of talent, both seemed about equal - neither could gain any ground on the other, although Visenya quietly acknowledged that if any of Jon's attacks landed she'd be done for. But rather than being frustrated by the lack of progress or any obvious sign of her victory, Visenya could feel a smile forming on her face that only spurred her on even more.

'Now this is a fight!' She cheered in her mind, tensing her muscles and putting even more effort in increasing her speed. The spectators soon struggled to see what was happening, barring the more experienced fighters, who still acknowledged the immense display of skill occuring. 'No-one has ever given me this much of a challenge except for Jaime.' She thought, her heart beating faster - and not just due to the effort of the fight. Granted, most of the people she'd fought other than people from her family were Lannister soldiers and the suitors Tywin attempted to organise for her, so she hadn't experienced a lot. Still, she supposed she was starting off with one of the best, if this fight was any indication. 'But still, he won't last much longer...' She thought with disappointment, seeing him begin to falter.

Jaime, watching from the sidelines, sighed in boredom. Oh, he was well aware of how amazing the two were, but no swordplay, not even Visenya's, could top the true dance of death he'd seen from Ser Arthur Dayne all those years ago. "Alright, I'm off - hey, Cassel!" He called, catching the attention of the younger Cassel, Captain of the Guard and the son of the Master-of-Arms of Winterfell. "The winner is whoever gets put on their back first." He said, then left without waiting for a response.

Jory rolled his eyes but shrugged in assent and turned back to the fight.

Jon grunted as Visenya suddenly increased even more in speed and soon began to be put on the defensive. 'Gods!' He thought in amazement. 'Even Robb can't fight like this! Just who on earth taught her!' It wasn't really that she was better than him, skill wise he could tell they were about equal, but the style she employed seemed almost tailor-suited to deal with his normal style of fighting. If it were anyone else, barring Sand, Ned and Roderick, Jon was certain she would've floored them long ago.

"Uff!" Jon was caught unawares as Visenya suddenly made an uncharacteristically powerful counter, forcing his sword up and allowing her to do her signature kick to the stomach. He wheezed slightly due to having the air suddenly forced out of him, but was able to keep himself upright, though he was forced back a few steps. "By the Gods, woman - you really can fight." He muttered loud enough for her to hear.

Visenya smirked. "You aren't so bad yourself, Jon." At his raised eyebrow she smiled. "What? Surprised I called you by your name? Relax, I'm a bastard too, remember? And anyway, I respect any man who can last this long with me."

"'Last'?" Jon repeated. "You make it sound as if your victory is certain."

Twirling the sword, Visenya shrugged. "Well what can I say. You're good, Jon. Very good - but you're slow." She taunted. She was well aware that was untrue, but she was having so much fun that she decided to rile him up a bit. Judging from his tense shoulders, it worked and the crowd all made 'ooh' noises. "You're obviously getting tired if I could pull off such a cheap trick, so I'd say another what - ten seconds will do it?"

A lot of people laughed and jeered, mostly in good fun at the jabs. "Come on Snow, you gonna let her badmouth you like that?" Robb called.

"Come on Jon! You'll win, I know it!" Arya shouted.

Jon smirked, shaking his head as everyone shouted taunts and encouragement alike. A few people even seemed to have taken bets on who would win. 'Well, that seals the deal, doesn't it?' He thought, breathing deeply as he slowly drowned out all other distractions and his heartbeat slowed to a crawl. His vision seemed to narrow - focusing solely on Visenya and her sword. 'Arya wants me to win - can't disappoint my little sister, now can I?'

*Line Break*

"But can't I stay and accompany the Queen?" Sansa begged her mother as she followed her out of the tower where the Royals would be staying and towards the stairs leading to the ground floor.

Walking ahead of her daughter, Catelyn Stark Nee Tully rolled her eyes in exasperation. "For the last time, no! Royals or no royals, you have sewing practice to attend. Now go, before I confine you to your room and don't let you out until they all leave!" She ordered, making Sansa stop and huff as Catelyn carried on.

The corridor leading to where sewing practice took place was just behind her, but Sansa didn't go through it, frowning and kicking frustratedly at the floor as she leaned against the wall near a window. "Finally something happens in this place and Mother won't even let me near it for more than five minutes." She huffed, crossing her arms. She was 16 for the God's sake! Merely a year younger than Robb and Jon! She was supposed to be married soon, if not already. Surely she could make her own decisions now and then!

"And sewing practice? Really? I don't need that any more! Or does the fact that Father, Robb and Jon wear cloaks that I made mean nothing to her?" To be honest, although she wasn't desperate for it, she'd rather learn to fight than sew at this point. She'd already mastered the latter to a point she was better than the teacher and Old Nan, so even swordfighting, as brutish as it was, sounded more appealing.

Speaking of swordplay, she soon noticed the tell-tale sounds of metal clashing together and realised she was near the window that faced the practice yard. 'Someone must be sparring.' She thought, moving towards the window. 'I wonder who though - surely everyone should be busy organising things for the feast?'

As she neared, she heard the shouts and cheers of a crowd and felt her curiosity build even more. Peering through the window, she could make out a clear view of the training yard from a high vantage point. She blinked in surprise at the fighters. "Is that Jon?" She said to herself. She didn't recognise the woman he was fighting, but she was blonde and wore high-quality Lannister clothing, so she took her to be the Bastard daughter of Tywin that Catelyn had told her that would be coming.

She watched as the both of them continued swinging and stabbing at each other with such grace and precision that Sansa couldn't help but become enraptured in it. She'd never seen anything like this - most of the time fights in Winterfell consisted of slow, practiced fights that were more for tutoring than actual competitions. At least, she hadn't cared to stay and wait for those except for a few between Robb and his instructor and Ned and Jory with some of the guardsmen.

But still, none of those compared with the absolute blinding speed and ferocity of this fight. She gasped slightly when Jon was kicked away, her heartrate rising as uncharacteristic worry filled her. "Come on Jon, you can beat her!" She cheered quietly to herself.

"Sansa?"

"Gah!" She spun. "Father! What are you doing here?"

Sure enough, Ned Stark stood a few feet from her with a raised eyebrow. "I just escorted his Grace to his rooms when I heard a ruckus going on outside, I came to see what it was." He said, moving to stand beside her. Seeing Jon and Visenya fighting, he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Sansa turned as well, looking back outside. "They've been sparring for the past couple of minutes. It looked quite even but then the girl sped up and kicked him in the chest."

"Hmm, let's see how it pans out, shall we?" Ned said, leaning on the window-sill. Sansa looked at him in slight surprise at his open interest in the outcome, but shrugged it off reluctantly and turned back just as Jon did something odd.

*Line Break*

Visenya watched with interest as Jon suddenly became eerily calm, his breathing evened out and his gaze dangerous. He turned to a cloaked man on the sidelines with a question in his eyes and when said man nodded, Visenya all of a sudden felt her confidence take a hit for some reason.

"Alright, alright." Jon finally said, as the cloaked man retrieved another longsword and made his way towards Jon. "Ten seconds, you say? Fine. Let's do that."

"Getting someone else to finish your fight, Jon?" Visenya frowned, truly disappointed and confused - until the man handed the other sword to Jon. "What-?"

"Ready to continue?" Jon asked with a slight smile, the crowd having gone quiet in their confusion. Visenya looked around - everyone, even Robb, Arya and Theon looked surprised at Jon's actions. "Yeah, I've never done this before in front of anyone else but my instructor."

Feeling her hackles rise in annoyance, Visenya growled. "Are you mocking me? Using a half-assed move?" She nodded at his second sword. "And come on, a second sword? An Arthur Dayne fanboy, are we?" She spat.

The cloaked man coughed in his place and Jon let out a small chuckle. "Well, half-assed? I wouldn't say so, but why don't we find out?" He grinned, his eyes narrowing as he twirled both swords.

Visenya gulped, faltering slightly at his continued resolve and confidence in his actions. Still, she didn't want to lose face. "You know what? Fine. If you're so confident, how about we make a bet."

"Oh?" Jon paused.

"You said your blacksmith still hasn't made you a sword yet, correct?" She asked. When he nodded, she grinned. "Well then; if you actually beat me, I'll use my own gold to comission the best sword I can afford for you. If you can beat me with-" She paused to stifle a snort of laughter. "-two swords, I'll even comission a second one."

"Ooh." The crowd all made the noise at her offer.

Jon bit down a grin, keeping his face stony. "And if I lose?" He asked.

"If you lose... you have to cluck like a chicken between every sentence for a week." Visenya stated, gaining cheers and laughter from the onlookers.

*Line Break*

"What's Jon doing! He can't use two swords, can he!?" Sansa exclaimed.

Ned stayed silent, narrowing his eyes. 'Let's see what you taught him...' He thought, glancing at Sand.

*Line Break*

"Fine, I'll agree to that." Jon nodded, before twirling his swords again. "Now are you finally ready?"

Visenya nodded. "Yeah, I'm ready." She said. Despite her earlier words and assurances, for some reason she couldn't help the bad feeling inside her stomach that she'd made a mistake.

"Alright, then come at me." Jon said.

Visenya readied her sword, then with a huff, charged at Jon.

It was over almost before anyone could see what happened.

Visenya reached him within moments, going for a jab towards his exposed side - having two swords should have made him fumble to protect it properly. She was wrong. In the blink of an eye, Jon brought the right had sword up with a twirl and knocked her sword up, kicking her away lightly with his right leg afterwards.

Blinking, Visenya gulped but gritted her teeth and charged again, putting all of her speed and skills to use immediately. It was no use.

With his second sword Jon seemed to have lost all signs of openings. His speed increased to surpass hers and it was her turn to be entirely on the defensive - but it was still too much. 'No...' She narrowly deflected the left hand sword as it came for her waist. 'This can't be happening...' She narrowly dodged the right sword as it jabbed at her torso. 'I-I can't do anything!' She thought in a panic.

Swords seemed to come from every angle - every second that passed she seemed to get hit and bruised more and more. Soon enough it became overwhelming and she simply could not keep up, while Jon had an expression of calm focus as he became a whirlwind of death. In the next second, Jon seemingly chose to end it and caught her sword with his right one, forcing it down and into the earth at the tip as he brought the left hand one's point to rest under her chin as she came down with it.

"Yield." Jon instructed calmly, Visenya's eyes still wide and unbelieving. "Yield!"

Dropping her sword, Visenya held up her hands. "Fine, I... I yield." She stuttered out the words, almost having to force her mouth to form them.

Silence.

No-one could understand what just happened. Not Robb, not Arya, not Theon, not Jory, not Sansa, not anyone that happened to be spectating the fight. Jon was good - everyone knew it, but no one had ever seen him do this before - it was as if the Sword of the Morning himself had possessed his body for those few moments.

Robb broke out of his stupor and turned slowly to look at Sand with dawning suspicion.

A clap sounded in the crowd, which was soon joined by another, then another and another until the whole crowd was cheering and hollering, all having forgotten that the two fighters were bastards.

Jon lowered his swords and handed them off to Sand, then offered his hand to Visenya.

The blonde girl glared at the hand for a moment before her expression softened and she shook her head with a smile. "Well, don't I look like a fool." She chuckled, taking the hand and feeling herself get pulled up. She would have been standing normally, but she purposefully rose so she was closer to Jon than was strictly necessary. "Well, I guess that I couldn't really have asked for a better husband, to be able to defeat me so decisively." She said in a whisper to his ear.

Jon faltered at that and his eyebrows shot up, his face burning red. "W-what!?"

"Oh, your father didn't tell you?" Visenya asked as Jon stumbled back.

"T-Tell me what!?" Jon exclaimed.

Visenya grinned and Jon suddenly lost all the smug confidence he had gained with his win. "I'm here because our fathers want us to marry."

"What!?" Arya exclaimed, having heard the statement as she ran up.

"What!?" Robb exclaimed. "Father didn't tell me this!"

*Line Break*

"What!?" Sansa spun to look at a suddenly sheepish and slightly embarassed Ned Stark.

**END**

**Okay, not sure how well I ended it there, I kinda just wanted a cut-off point that didn't ****_only_**** end with Visenya losing. **

**For those who are curious, these are the vague plot-points/storylines I had in mind:**

**-After a few weeks at Winterfell Jon and Visenya discuss their situation privately and Visenya reveals her lineage and the two Targaryens still living in Essos. **

**-Jon refuses the marriage and still joins the Nights Watch, while Visenya sneaks away to whiteharbour and bribes a boatman to take her to Essos. **

**-Visenya finds Daenerys just after Viserys has died and joins her in support of her claim.**

**The idea kind of petered out there, with the plot being pretty much the same until Jon is killed by Olly and Allister and all the other traitors. I couldn't think of anything to fill the time between and having a time-skip that large just felt wrong.**

**Anyway guys, hope you enjoyed and I'll see you later.**


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